


fond object of my affection

by forestjoshua



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s15e08 Our Father Who Aren't In Heaven, Friends to Lovers, Jealous Michael (Supernatural), M/M, Post-Episode: s15e08 Our Father Who Aren't in Heaven, Season/Series 15, technically really long slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23812882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestjoshua/pseuds/forestjoshua
Summary: Adam and Michael in the Cage, after the Cage, and so on.
Relationships: Michael/Adam Milligan
Comments: 20
Kudos: 157





	fond object of my affection

**Author's Note:**

> so. i feel like i've been repressing my midam feels for seven years and then i recently caught up with supernatural season 15 and holy fuck i had to just produce this fic out of nowhere. i never thought i'd be here. it's 2020 it's basically the apocalypse and i'm writing supernatural fanfiction *shrugs*
> 
> title from the series anne with an e, originally said by gilbert blythe. love that series.
> 
> i love ignoring canon and what's eventually ahead of us :)))

Adam doesn’t remember much of it.

It all comes to him in short flashes, in shattered, disordered memories. He remembers the gruesome end of his short life. He remembers losing his mother before losing himself. He remembers Heaven, or pieces of it. Maybe not even Heaven, only memories – they’re the same, after all. Because that’s what Heaven is: the eternal lull and peace which in the end was only an illusion, nothing real. An eternity of essentially nothing.

He remembers Zachariah and his promises that never came true. He remembers meeting Michael.

At first, his presence had set pure terror in him, terror he felt in the deepest part of his soul. Michael hadn’t come for Adam, after all. He’d come for Dean, but Dean was gone. Dean had abandoned him. Adam should’ve known better. He was just a pawn in a game, one of the least important pieces on the board.

He remembers feeling like the time had stopped. He remembers Michael’s voice, how it felt like he wasn’t actually _hearing_ much, more like Michael was a thought in his head. _Say yes to me so I can end this. I promise to let you go._

Knowing he didn’t really have another choice, Adam, blood on his lips, had whispered ‘yes’.

Light encloses him and then, there’s nothing. There’s nothing for a long, long time. There’s nothing until time doesn’t exist. There’s Adam, living his life. There’s Adam, baking cookies with his mother in the kitchen, singing along to the songs on the radio with her. There’s Adam at the baseball game with his father – a gruff, silent and brooding man who appeared in Adam’s life maybe two times a year, each year seeming increasingly more distant until disappearing completely. There’s Adam playing pranks with his friends. Adam with his first girlfriend. And there’s Adam with his mother again, her hugging him, making Adam feel warm and safe. There’s Adam-

There’s Adam. _Adam._

_Adam._

_Adam._

_Adam?_

White noise fills Adam’s ears. “Mom?” Adam calls out. Just a second ago, his mother had been next to him. Now, Adam stands alone in the kitchen, cluelessly looking around.

“Hello Adam,” a voice comes. A voice that has no tone, no warmth, no emotion.

No humanity.

Adam turns and comes face to face with himself, yet it feels like looking into a mirror and seeing someone else. “Who- What’s happening?” Adam stumbles over his words, grabs a bread knife that lies on the table and points it at his doppelgänger. His hand shakes. He remembers the ghoul, he remembers-

The stranger isn’t threatened by the knife. He doesn’t even look at it. His face is serene as he says, “That is your name? Adam?” He stands unmoving, with his back ramrod straight.

“What do you want from me?” Adam hisses. He doesn’t let go of the knife: holding it grounds him, gives him the illusion that he’s in control.

“I have merely come to check upon you,” the stranger continues, “Do you know where you are, Adam?”

_Say yes to me so I can end this. I promise to let you go._

“Michael?” Adam gasps. The memories rush in and it feels like Adam’s mind is splintering. There’s too much, _too much_ memories- “Am I back in Heaven?”

A shadow passes over Michael’s face, Michael’s face which is a mirror of Adam’s, yet so different. “No,” Michael says, “We are far from Heaven.”

“What do you mean?” Adam asks, “Did we not win?” He sounds like a child. He feels like a child.

The corners of Michael’s lips quirk up. It’s a sad smile, a forlorn smile. “Neither of us won. My brother lost. And _I_ lost, as well,” Michael says.

“What do you mean?” Adam pleads, fear thrumming in his chest. “Michael, where am I? Where are _we_?”

“We are in Hell. In the Cage. We fell in here with my brother, and with your brother,” Michael says.

Adam looks around. Why does Hell look like his mother’s kitchen? Why there’s no pain, no suffering, no-

The screams. The screams that keep Adam up all night, the screams that come out of nowhere, haunting and terrifying him. The screams of Hell. Adam can hear them now, in the gap of quietness.

“I’ve locked you inside your mind,” Michael explains, “To keep you safe.”

“How long?” Adam whispers. _This is not real none of this is real you’re just living your memories your wishes and dreams again and again and again nothing’s happening maybe Michael isn’t even real._

“Years,” says Michael.

“And Luc-“

“Don’t say his name,” Michael interrupts with a thunderous voice. His eyes glow and the shadows of his wings appear behind him. Instinctively, Adam takes a step back, his body hitting the kitchen counter. “Don’t attract his attention,” Michael adds, voice now softer, his eyes returning to normal. “If he notices you… Well, I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to protect you. My brother has been feeling exceedingly vicious lately. Ever since Sam Winchester left.”

“Sam’s not here?” Adam asks meekly. If Sam got out, why is he-

His stomach drops.

“The Winchesters’ angel came to retrieve him. Later, Death came to take his soul that Castiel had left behind,” Michael says, “I’m sorry, Adam. I wish he’d taken you, too. The Cage is no place for you.”

Adam slides down against the counter until he’s sat on the floor, hugging his knees. The knife drops from his grasp. Adam doesn’t want to cry in front of the archangel, so he just stares into nothing.

“Adam,” Michael says, “My brother is sensing something is up, so I have to go. Be at peace.” Michael touches Adam’s forehead.

And just like that, Adam goes back to normal. Hell’s screams mute down, and his mother is hugging him again and Adam forgets.

It goes on for years – not that Adam has a very firm grasp of time, considering what his life has become. Michael doesn’t come often and never stays long. Every time, Adam remembers, until Michael leaves again, locking Adam in the back of his mind. It’s better than being tormented by Lucifer, Adam knows. He knows it’s for his own good. Michael is taking the hard blows for him and Adam doesn’t know what to think of it.

When Michael happens to stay for a longer period of time, they just sit together, next to each other, usually on the floor because that’s the place Adam always finds himself when it all comes back to him. At first, they’re silent, Michael sitting so still he may as well be a statue. A marble angel guarding Adam. Adam’s mother had once told Adam he’d been born on Michael’s day. Feast of the Archangels. It had never meant anything to Adam, but now he thinks it may have been an omen. Somehow, Adam was destined to end up in a cage with the archangel Michael.

The silence is unbearable to Adam. In the silence, he can hear the screams that echo from the torture pits. The only thing that remind Adam that they’re in Hell. Without his angel, Adam would be screaming, too.

Adam starts to talk, to test if he can ignore the screams if _he_ just makes some noise. He’s always been a talkative person. It works, so he keeps going. He talks about anything that comes to his mind, about himself, his life. His mother and father. His friends, who have probably forgotten about him by now. His brothers most certainly have. His dog who died when he was seven. His home. His hopes and dreams, shattered and gone. When he speaks, Michael continues to sit still. But he’s listening.

Adam is sure he’s listening. He feels it in his soul, feels how Michael’s grace reacts to his words.

It takes a while until Michael starts to respond to him in other ways. At first, he just turns his face and body towards Adam, but then, he surprises Adam by engaging, asking questions. Questions about _Adam,_ his life, his thoughts. Adam converses with the angel like with anyone.

Like with a friend.

“Where’s your brother? What is he doing?” Adam asks one time. They don’t often talk about Michael. Adam senses Michael doesn’t like it, so he always changes the subject back to him.

“Walking circles on the other side of the Cage. Muttering to himself. Scheming.” When Michael speaks, his lips barely move. He shrugs, eyes glazed over. “He’s left me alone for almost a decade, now. I’ve convinced him that I’ve become insane. He doesn’t even taunt me anymore since I give him no reaction, no reward,” Michael tells Adam.

“A decade,” Adam whispers, “How long have we been here?”

Michael shrugs again. “Time passes differently in Hell. It could be only a couple of years on Earth. I haven’t exactly kept track.”

Michael hangs his head. He’s been too busy fending off Lucifer.

Adam on a fishing trip with his friends when Michael comes once again. This time, there’s a glummer look on his face than usual, as he appears in front of Adam just as Adam’s friends disappear around him and it dawns once again on Adam.

_Oh. I’m in Hell. For decades, I’ve been in Hell. Because Hell is a real place and I’m there, trapped in a cage with two archangels and this is Michael, the only one you can rely on, the only one you_ have.

Adam’s smile that automatically comes to his face whenever he sees Michael falls quickly when he notices the odd state Michael’s in. He steps forward towards the angel, extending a hesitating hand. “Michael? What happened? Is it your brother? What did he do to you?” There’s a protective tone in Adam’s voice. He can’t do anything about Lucifer, though he desires to rip him apart.

“He’s-“ Michael says quietly, his voice uncharacteristically thin. “He’s gone, Adam. Lucifer has left the Cage.”

It’s the first time Adam hears Michael speak Lucifer’s name.

Deafening silence settles around them and Adam can hear Hell’s screams. Adam flinches. “How?” he breathes.

Michael is pacing. “I don’t know,” he admits, “He must have- He somehow managed to do this without alerting me. He must have done this-“ Michael pauses, looking at Adam. “-while I was with you.”

Feeling uneasy, Adam averts his gaze from Michael. “Sorry,” he whispers, anticipating Michael’s wrath. The only time Michael displays anger, real emotion, is when Lucifer comes up.

Yet, nothing happens. When Adam lifts his head, Michael has come closer, crept upon him. There’s uncertainty in his eyes. His fingers brush briefly against Adam’s face, gone in an instant. Adam’s skin tingles.

“It’s not your fault,” Michael says calmly, “At least you’re safer now. But Lucifer, at large on Earth. It’s-“

“A bad thing,” Adam nods.

“We have to only hope your brothers are still in the game. And that they can stop Lucifer,” Michael says, sitting down on the grass next to Adam.

“Right,” Adam mutters, “My brothers.” _My brothers who left me in the Cage. My brothers who forgot about me. My brothers who never cared._

“Adam,” Michael says. There’s something special about the way he says Adam’s name. It always makes Adam look at the angel, like he’s being forcibly pulled towards Michael. “I don’t know why your brothers haven’t saved you. I- I assumed they would, eventually.”

“Well, they’ve still got time,” Adam says bitterly, “It’s been, like, five, six, years? Maybe they’ve been busy. I sure as Hell haven’t been. Besides – maybe it’s a good thing they haven’t, you know…”

“Haven’t what?” asks Michael, “Come for you?”

“Yeah,” Adam breathes, “Because… Me, they would perhaps save. But you… I’m not certain. I’m just glad they haven’t forced me to leave you behind.”

Michael goes quiet. When Adam looks at him, he’s twirling a blade of grass between his fingers, unreadable expression on his face. Adam’s breath catches in his throat. To be frank, he’s not sure he’s even been breathing for the past years, _decades,_ maybe a millennium, by now. Maybe breathing is another memory. “What now?” Michael muses quietly, “For all of my existence, I’ve had my mission from God. Now, I’m locked in a cage intended for my brother, far from the realm of Heaven. There’s nothing for me.”

“I don’t know, Michael,” Adam says, “There’s always something. More waiting.” Adam shrugs. He hesitates, before adding, “At least we have each other.”

“Yes,” says Michael, a hint of hope in his voice. “At least we have each other.”

“What can I get for you, dear?” the waitress chirps, looking at Adam. Her blue eyes sparkle kindly and for a moment, Adam can only stare. That’s another human being. A human being, who isn’t an illusion happening inside Adam’s head. “Are you alright, love?” she asks, worried. “You look like Hell.” She looks at Adam, his dirty clothes and sunken cheeks.

Adam snorts. “You have no idea,” he mutters, glancing back at the menu. “Let’s start with a cheeseburger and extra fries. Seriously, don’t save with the fries.”

“Gotcha,” the waitress says, writing Adam’s order down. “And for drink?”

“A large Coke – wait.” Adam realizes: he isn’t nineteen anymore. “A large beer.”

“Alright,” the waitress says and leaves.

Adam’s whole being has been buzzing since they left the Cage. He doesn’t know if it’s him or Michael, but that’s not important. What’s important is that they’re out.

That they’re free.

Michael insists being in control at first. During the millennium they spent together in the Cage, Adam has come to trust him. This time, Michael doesn’t shut him off. It feels weird, seeing with his eyes, hearing with his ears, except it isn’t _him_ who’s operating everything. It feels exciting and terrifying, at the same time.

“I can’t sense him,” Michael says, after a long period of nothing happening.

_Who,_ asks Adam. He can only think that, but Michael hears him all the same.

“Lucifer,” Michael says, “I think he’s… gone. I can’t sense him. Raphael is gone, too. And I know Gabriel died before the Cage. I’m- I’m the only archangel left.”

_I’m sorry,_ Adam says. Michael doesn’t reply. He stands still at the side of the road. _Michael? What’s next? Are you going back to Heaven?_

_(Please don’t go back to Heaven.)_

Adam tries to conceal the last thought from Michael but can’t tell if he’s successful.

“What do _you_ want?” Michael asks.

_I want… to eat._

“You don’t have to eat. I can sustain your body without any food,” Michael says.

_Please? I haven’t had a cheeseburger in… ten years, I guess?_

There’s amusement in Michael’s voice. “Very well,” he says and then, they’re flying.

_God lied to me. God lied to me. God lied to me. God lied to me._

The only thought that bleeds from Michael, Michael who’s been quiet since they left the Winchesters. Before leaving, Sam had given Adam fake an ID and some money to get started. Adam had seen pity in his eyes. He had wanted to refuse – with Michael, he could basically do anything, but he knew that they could get in trouble with hunters and angels. Instead, he had grabbed the envelope Sam had handed to him.

“I’ll pay you back when I can,” he had said to Sam.

“You don’t have to,” had Sam insisted. He could barely look at Adam. “And if you need anything-“ he had continued, but Adam had cut him off.

“Save it. Let’s wait another ten years, at first. Good luck with everything.”

Then, Michael had taken him away.

_God lied to me._

“Hello, Adam.”

Adam, who’s sorting through his junk mail at the postbox turns to see his neighbor, a girl in her mid-twenties who lives in the apartment below Adam. Adam nods at her. “Sandra.”

“Nice evening. Do have any plans tonight?” she asks, hesitating.

Adam shoves the junk mail into the garbage chute. He’s been living in this building for two weeks and he has job in the coffeeshop down the street. His life is boring and normal, and God hasn’t yet unraveled the world, so his brothers must be doing an adequate job.

Michael is quiet. In the mornings, Adam stands in the bathroom and stares into the mirror, gripping the sink. He tries to see flashes of Michael on his face but can’t.

The only thing he can occasionally hear is: _God lied to me._ Adam doesn’t know what to do. The only people he could ask about how he can help Michael are his brothers and Castiel, and Adam doesn’t want to see them. He has seriously considered googling ‘depressed archangel’, but he doubts any proper results would pop up.

“No,” Adam says, looking at Sandra. She’s pretty, brown curls and almond shaped eyes. She’s wearing a pink beret and matching pink lipstick. “Why you ask?”

“I’m having a gathering with my friends. Would you like to join? I never see you with anyone,” Sandra says, smiling sweetly.

_Yeah,_ Adam thinks, _Ironic, since I’m never_ alone, _since there’s an archangel inside of me. Who’s currently not speaking to me, so,_ “Sure.”

“Great!” says Sandra, her smile widening.

“I’ll just drop by my apartment first,” Adam says to her, “See you soon.”

He runs to his apartment, leaping two steps at a time. He changes into nicer, more comfortable clothes – not that he owns many clothes. When he gets to Sandra’s apartment, she comes to open the door instantly.

“Sorry, I have nothing to bring,” Adam says to her sheepishly, spreading his empty arms.

She smiles at him. She smiles a lot. She’s a cheerful, bubbly girl. “That’s alright,” she says, gesturing for Adam to come inside. “Come. I’ll introduce you to my friends.”

Friends. Adam doesn’t have those anymore.

There’s only Michael.

Barely.

But Sandra’s friends are nice. _Sandra_ is nice. Adam sits next to her, beer bottle in his hand and listens as the others speak, about things Adam yet has to catch up with. Sometimes, he’s as clueless as Michael. So much for being a guide.

Adam’s not following the conversation, so he starts when Sandra’s friend Rob asks, “What about you, Adam?”

“Huh?” says Adam. He must have drunk at least ten beers, but he’s not feeling even a little bit tipsy.

“We were talking about life after death,” Sandra says, “Rob here is a believer in reincarnation. Gareth believes there’s nothing and Laura…”

“I think there’s Heaven. A paradise, where we can finally rest,” says Laura. Her voice is hopeful.

“Heaven is only your memories,” Adam says, before he can bite his tongue. “Your consciousness – your _soul –_ living your happiest moments on a loop, for eternity.”

“Interesting theory,” says Rob, stroking his beard.

Gareth scoffs. “When we die, we return to the state where we were before we were born: nothing.”

“What do you think of Hell, Adam?” Laura asks, “If Heaven is our happiest moments, is Hell our worst?”

“Could be,” Adam mumbles. The Hell he experienced wasn’t exactly traditional Hell. It could have been, if Michael had let Lucifer have at him.

But Adam still remembers Hell’s screams, the sounds of agony. They echo in his ears when he lies in his bed, sleepless. Sometimes, Michael puts him to sleep, though Adam doesn’t need it. That’s the only thing Michael does, besides-

_God lied to me._

“This conversation bores me,” Gareth states, standing up. “Rob, let’s have a smoke outside. Adam?”

Adam snaps out of his thoughts. “No thanks, I don’t smoke,” he says.

“Whatever,” mutters Gareth, leaving with Rob.

“I need to use the bathroom,” says Laura, she stands up and then, there’s only Adam alone with Sandra.

Sandra moves closer to Adam on the couch, until their knees touch. Adam looks down, trying to remember when he last touched another human, when another human touched _him_. It must have been Dean, his hand on Adam’s shoulder, checking if he’s alright, before-

“Quite lonely, your theory of Heaven. If you think about it,” Sandra says. She’s smiling sweetly again, her eyes glistening. She smells of vanilla and something fruity and a little bit of alcohol. “Alone with your memories for eternity.”

“It’s not a theory,” Adam says quietly, staring at her. Sandra isn’t listening to him. She leans closer, lips slightly parted. Curious and starved, Adam leans to meet her. He touches Sandra’s chin, her skin soft beneath his fingers, and-

His hands aren’t his anymore. They shove Sandra away, making her splash her drink all over herself and Adam.

“What the Hell is wrong with you?” she shrieks, looking at Adam like he’s lost his mind. “If you don’t want me to kiss you, there’s no need to do _that.”_

Laura re-enters the room. “What’s going on? What happened?” she asks, glaring at Adam.

“He pushed me!” Sandra says, “There are nicer ways to reject people, Adam.”

“I think you should leave, _jerk,”_ hisses Laura.

“Alright,” Adam mutters and obeys.

Back in his apartment, he sits on his bed and sighs. “Michael? Can we talk about what happened?”

Silence.

“Look, Michael, you can’t just do that. That was rude, for her and for _me._ If you don’t want me to kiss people while you’re in there that’s _fine._ You have to just ask. Michael?”

Nothing.

Adam throws himself on the bed. He stares at the ceiling for hours, waiting for Michael to reply, to say _something,_ to put him asleep.

He lies on the bed until morning.

Adam’s wearing his new jacket as he steps outside. He’d found it on sale yesterday as he was passing through the mall and decided he was due a new jacket. Clothes are another thing he doesn’t actually need now that he has Michael, even if he’s just passive inside him. He’s still there, still taking care of Adam, so Adam only has to wear layers to blend in. He’s taking the trash out before heading home from work, whistling as he walks in the dark alley behind the building. He’s in a good mood, which is rare. He’d be in a better mood more often if Michael would stop hiding.

Adam is halfway through the alley, when a man appears out of nowhere, blocking Adam’s way. He grabs Adam’s collar and glares at him with dark eyes, but Adam isn’t scared. He suppresses a smirk: Michael may be hiding, but he wouldn’t let a random mugger hurt Adam. The man is as good as dead.

“Look, if I were you, I’d think twice about-“

“Save it, _Michael,”_ the man growls and his eyes glow blue. Adam feels his body freeze and _finally,_ a tingle runs up his spine as he feels Michael take over.

It’s blissful.

“Hands off _him_ ,” Michael says, voice cold as ice. Slowly, the angel retreats his hands. “What do you want, Zadkiel?” Michael growls.

“I’m here on behalf of Naomi,” answers Zadkiel. Adam doesn’t recognize that name. Though, he doesn’t know many of Michael’s kind. Michael never talked about angels.

“What does she want?” asks Michael.

“To talk. For you to come to Heaven and talk with her. That’s all we ask,” says Zadkiel. He’s _pleading,_ Adam realizes. And he still appears to respect Michael, after all that’s gone down.

“Why?”

“Heaven is falling, Michael. There’s six of us holding it together, seven if you count me. Heaven can’t fall, you know that.”

“How do I you’re not lying?” Michael says; “Angels lie, too.”

_And_ God _lies._

“See for yourself. Read my mind, if you have to. Please,” Zadkiel says, “We’re desperate. Every angel counts, but you… You could _save_ Heaven. Just… talk to Naomi. I’m sure you can come into an agreement. You don’t have to be in Heaven all the time, if you prefer to be here. You just have to be in Heaven when Heaven needs you.”

_A trap?_ Adam thinks.

_Maybe,_ Michael replies.

“How desperate?” Michael asks.

“So desperate we turned to _Lucifer_ for help. I don’t know how up-to-date you are with all the gossip, but after Lucifer died, Dumah, she tried the same with Lucifer’s _son._ ”

Adam catches a glimpse from Michael’s mind, a piece of the vision Castiel had shown him. A young boy with an innocent face, on his knees in front of gun-wielding Dean Winchester. _You were right. I am a monster._ Pure light, erupting from his eyes, his mouth-

“You tried to install _Lucifer_ into Heaven?” says Michael.

“Anael’s idea,” says Zadkiel, “He did more harm than good. We should’ve known better. Naomi even thought about reaching out to the _other_ Michael.”

“He was here?” Michael whispers.

“Oh yes. He died,” Zadkiel says.

“How?” Michael asks.

“Lucifer’s son killed him. You have nothing to worry about, Michael. Lucifer’s son is dead,” Zadkiel says. “Michael – sorry, _other_ Michael – killed Lucifer and Lucifer’s son killed other Michael, and the word’s on the street that God killed Lucifer’s son. Who’s there left to kill you?”

“Are you threatening me, Zadkiel?” Michael hisses.

“Heaven can’t fall,” Zadkiel says.

“If that’s God’s will,” replies Michael.

“What is ‘God’ these days? Are you going to bend to his will, to his whims? Are you going to stand by and watch as the souls fall from Heaven? You, Heaven’s fiercest warrior, hiding behind a human boy?”

_Michael,_ Adam says.

“Or are you going to prove God that you’re better than him? That you love these creatures, these souls better than him? That you won’t abandon them in their doom?”

Zadkiel has come closer, staring at Michael with angry, dark eyes.

“Or are you going to be just like the _other_ Michael?”

Suddenly, Adam is enclosed in light. His whole being shakes as something moves beneath his skin, around his bones. He shouts into the night until it’s over.

It’s over.

Zadkiel has disappeared. And Michael-

The door next to Adam opens. “Adam?” calls Christie, his coworker. “What are you yelling about?”

Adam turns around. He feels... empty. He feels half of himself, lonely. Lonelier than when Michael wouldn’t speak. “Sorry. A raccoon… Came out of nowhere,” he says, not recognizing his own voice.

“Jesus, Adam… It’s a raccoon, not the end of the world,” mutters Christie, closing the door.

Leaving Adam alone.

_Completely_ alone.

Completely _Adam._

A couple days later, Adam enters his apartment and sees a figure standing up in the dark. He drops his backpack, wishing he had a knife, or a gun, or _Michael_ and calls out, “Who’s there?”

A man walks into the light. He has olive skin, dark, curly hair and amber eyes. He moves slow and stiff, almost robotic.

“Adam,” the man says.

There’s only one person, only one _being_ who says his name like that. “Michael?” Adam whispers, in disbelief.

For days, he had thought Michael had abandoned him. Michael who had promised he’d choose Adam over Heaven. Michael who had been the only thing he had. Michael, who had become a part of _him._

Being without Michael had been worse than missing a limb. It had turned Adam almost into a ghost, a shell.

He should’ve known. He’d been competing with _Heaven._ He’d been abandoned before. It’d been a millennium, just the two of them, at least for Michael. Adam should’ve guessed Michael had been craving a change, he _should’ve known._

A mere human wasn’t worth of an archangel. Adam wasn’t interchangeable with Heaven.

Jealousy stabbing him, Adam regards Michael’s new vessel. “Who’s _he?”_ he asks with an accusing tone.

Michael touches his vessel’s chest. The vessel’s fingers a long and thin. “This,” Michael answers slowly, “Is a man I used as my vessel a couple centuries back. A painter from Cyprus. His soul and consciousness are in Heaven. I’m sorry, Adam. I couldn’t bring you to Heaven. I didn’t want to risk it.”

“You _promised,”_ Adam says, tears pricking his eyes. He can’t cry. Michael has never seen him cry, not even in his memories.

“I know,” says Michael, “I had to save Heaven. Think of all the souls, Adam. Think of your mother. I couldn’t have that on my conscience.” Michael chuckles dryly and adds very quietly, “I didn’t even know I had a conscience.” His vessel has a really melodic voice, which is toned down by Michael’s solemn way of speaking. “I couldn’t be worse than my father.”

Adam hates that Michael is right.

Adam hates his own selfishness.

“Are you alright, Adam?” Michael asks, frowning at Adam who’s standing still, more still than Michael. Even in a different body, he sounds so _Michael_ Adam almost wants to smile.

Adam remembers standing in that back alley, feeling the chilly wind on his skin. He remembers hunger returning to him. He remembers being so _tired._ The first thing he had done after realizing Michael was _gone_ had been dropping by the liquor store on the way home and proceeding to get absolutely wasted, so wasted he couldn’t get up in the morning and had to call his boss and tell him he was sick.

“Yeah,” Adam scoffs, “I will be.” He walks over to the fridge. He needs a sandwich. After he’s done making one, he turns around, only to find Michael standing behind him. “What are you still doing here, Michael?” he asks.

Confusion flickers through Michael’s face. “You want me gone?” he asks.

“You’re an archangel, Michael. No, you’re _the_ archangel,” Adam says bitterly. “I’m sure you have better things to do that watch over some measly human.” He walks past Michael, out of the kitchen.

Michael follows him. “No, I don’t,” he says quietly.

“What?” Adam says, halting. “Heaven doesn’t need you?”

“Heaven… I will defend Heaven when Heaven needs defending,” Michael says, “Right now, it doesn’t. When my father created the first human, he told me: ‘Michael, this is your new mission: to love my new creation.’ In other words: to love… Adam.” Michael pauses. He stares at Adam so intensely goosebumps rise over Adam’s skin, for the first time in years. “That’s what I’m here to do,” Michael continues, “My mission. To love Adam.” The left corner of his lips quirks up. He reaches for Adam’s wrist and squeezes it, such earnestness in his eyes that Adam struggles to breathe.

“Fine,” Adam gives in. He sits down on the couch, pulling Michael next to him. “Well, how was Heaven?”

Michael smiles at Adam. His hand doesn’t leave Adam’s as he talks about Heaven.

At first, it feels weird. Adam had become so accustomed to sharing his body with Michael, _being_ Michael, two beings, woven into one, that thinking this other person, this strange face _was_ Michael. The thing was: Michael hadn’t changed. He spoke and behaved in the same way he’d always have. He stayed close to Adam, watched over Adam. At nights, he came to lie next to Adam on his bed. He’d lie on his side, knees bent and touching Adam’s, and they’d talk until Adam fell asleep. Adam didn’t know what Michael did when Adam was sleeping: maybe he went to Heaven or visited some other place on Earth. Maybe he never left. Maybe he proceeded to lie there, staring at Adam. On rare occasion, he’d visit Adam’s dreams. That reminded Adam of the old times, of the Cage. It left him feeling bittersweet. He didn’t miss the Cage, but he missed Michael, even when Michael was right next to him.

Michael becomes his shadow. Adam can’t go anywhere without him. And Adam knows Michael would take a step back if only Adam asked, but Adam doesn’t want to. It’s always endearing, having Michael following him like a duckling. Every morning, he walks Adam to work and comes back when Adam’s shift is over. He’s precise, always stepping through the doors at the exact moment Adam can go home, greeting Adam with a smile. Michael’s smiles are hard to notice. They are subtle and mostly in his eyes. Adam notices most people don’t recognize that Michael is smiling. They are careful around him, as if they, on a subconscious level, know who he truly is.

Adam and Michael always walk home side by side, arms brushing against each other. Adam tells Michael about his day, which is usually dull without exception. Regardless, Michael devours every word Adam says. In turn, he tells Adam what he’s done, which is usually watching television, movies, reading books. Or roaming the city, the continent, _Earth_ , collecting small items Michael brings home to their apartment, placing them to fill the empty surfaces. Sometimes, Michael talks about running into rogue angels, which always makes Adam nervous, no matter how much Michael assures that archangels are hard to kill – a single angel has no chance on him. It doesn’t matter: archangels have died before. _Michael_ has died before. Adam doesn’t say it, but he dreads the day Michael isn’t on the dot at the coffeeshop to retrieve Adam from work.

“You don’t have to worry,” Michael says to Adam, “Most of them I have managed to send back to Heaven. Naomi is most pleased.”

They are on their way home from the grocery store when they run into Sandra in the lobby. Curiosity lights in her eyes as she looks up from the mail she’s holding and sees Michael. When she spots Adam, her eyes harden. Adam nods at her and cringes, thinking about what happened between them.

“Hi, Adam,” Sandra says casually.

“Hi, Sandra,” Adam replies. He stops, sensing Michael halt next to him. Adam wrings his fingers together. “Um, listen, about-“

“Save it,” Sandra sighs. Adam registers Michael leaving them, taking the groceries with him. Adam rubs the back of his neck: a nervous habit.

“I’m just… sorry. I wasn’t in a good state of mind back then and I know can be a bit… rude,” Adam lies, but realizes, he’s speaking on behalf of Michael.

“It’s okay,” Sandra mutters, “Who’s…?” She points upstairs, into the direction where Michael has disappeared.

“Oh, Michael? He lives with me,” Adam mentions casually.

“Lives with you? How didn’t I know that?” Sandra asks, surprised. Her eyebrows climb up and she takes a step closer.

“He only moved in recently,” Adam says, shifting his weight from foot to foot. _Technically. More like he moved out. Became a roommate instead of a_ body _mate._

“He’s cute,” says Sandra, her face breaking into a smile. “Is he single? Just asking!” She lifts her hands up in defense when Adam narrows his eyes at her.

“He’s… not looking for a relationship,” Adam says carefully.

Sandra grins. “Adam,” she sighs, “You could’ve just said you have a boyfriend.”

“I- No- He’s not- You know what, nevermind,” Adam says, blushing. “I should go.”

“See you around, Adam!” Sandra calls after him, laughing.

When Adam enters the apartment, Michael is putting away the groceries – the human way, which is adorable. His movements are jerky, and he closes the cabinets with a little bit too much force. Adam just wishes they don’t have to install new cabinets. Again. “You done with… her?” Michael mutters.

“Yes,” Adam says. He walks into the kitchen and takes a cherry tomato from the bag Michael hasn’t yet unpacked, popping it into his mouth. “Wait, you weren’t listening to us?”

“No,” Michael says, “Eavesdropping is bad, right?”

“Right. Straight-to-Hell bad,” Adam replies with a teasing tone. When he looks at Michael, Michael is smiling. “Come,” Adam decides, urging Michael forward. “Sit with me in the living room. We should talk.” Confused, Michael puts down the carton of eggs he’s holding and follows Adam. When they’re seated on the couch, Adam starts, “We never talked about what happened with Sandra.”

“Sandra? Your neighbor?” Michael says.

“ _Our_ neighbor,” Adam corrects, “Yes, her.”

“What about her?” mutters Michael, turning his face deliberately away from Adam. His jaw tenses. Every day, his gestures become more human, yet he is still Michael. His gestures are _Michael’s._

“Michael,” Adam sighs, “You didn’t want me to kiss her, so you pushed her away. You really don’t want to admit to that?”

“Fine. That happened,” says Michael, “I admit it. Are we done?”

“No,” Adam decides. They are not done. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why didn’t you want me to kiss her? Was it because we were sharing a body?”

Michael frowns. “No,” he finally says, “I don’t think so, no. It just that-“ Michael sits so stiffly Adam has to place his hand on his knee, instantly making Michael relax. “I don’t _know._ Adam, I don’t understand kissing?”

“Well, kissing is when you touch another person with your lips,” Adam explains, smirking.

Rolling his eyes, acknowledging Adam’s teasing, Michael says, “I know what kissing _is._ I just don’t know – why?”

“People kiss each other to show love,” Adam says.

“So you love her? Sandra?” Michael says, squinting. His voice is suddenly harsh. His archangel voice.

“No,” Adam says. He has to fight back a smile. “People kiss each other out of attraction, too.”

“So you’re attracted to her?”

Adam shrugs. “A little bit. Maybe. I mostly wanted to kiss her because I haven’t kissed anyone in-“

“-years,” Michael finishes for him, “You know what – I think I get it. It’s just so peculiar. So… human.”

“How do angels show love, then?” Adam asks.

Michael pauses. He frowns. “We just… love. It’s hard to explain. Adam, in your memories…”

“You’ve been snooping around my head?” Adam accuses Michael playfully.

“I _lived_ inside your head,” Michael says dryly. “I saw your mother kissing your forehead when she put you to sleep. Was that because she loved you?”

“Yes,” Adam says, feeling a lump in his throat. When he’s awake, Adam can barely recall his mother’s face. He has no pictures of her, nothing. It’s a wound that never heals.

“And sometimes she would kiss your cheek.”

“Yes.”

“So kissing isn’t always on the mouth?”

“No, Michael. Usually only romantic partners kiss each other on the mouth. Friends and families ‘ kiss each other on the cheeks or forehead,” Adam explains. He takes Michael’s hands into his and brings the angel’s fingers to his lips and kisses them many times before dropping them. “There are lots of different kisses.”

Michael stares at Adam in awe. Then, he looks down and touches his knuckles where Adam’s lips had brushed them. He moves closer to Adam, hand finding Adam’s face. “Every kiss… Is like ‘I love you’?” Michael carefully asks.

“You could say so,” says Adam.

“You kissed my fingers seven times,” Michael says quietly, his thumb moving back and forth on Adam’s face until it lands on Adam’s lips.

“I did,” Adam whispers, completely transfixed by Michael.

Without a warning, Michael leans closer. He presses his lips on Adam’s and kisses – one, two, three, four, five, six, _seven_. Adam’s head is spinning by the time Michael is done. The kisses are clumsy, experimental.

And perfect.

Adam lets out a sound – half a sob, half a laugh – and grips Michael’s arms tightly.

“Are we even, now?” Michael whispers.

“Not even close,” Adam says and surges forward to steal more kisses. Michael’s lips and warm and _pliant_ and _eager_. When Adam moves away, he rest his forehead against Michael’s. Soon, Michael would learn more about how humans show their love.

Adam would show him _everything._

“Twenty-seven kisses,” Michael says, and Adam wants to scream, for the emotion he’s feeling is too raw. _Michael counted them._ “I love you twenty-seven times.” Another kiss. “And more.” And another kiss. “And more.” He wipes a tear from Adam’s face that had escaped from Adam’s eye without his permission. “Why are you crying? We are safe, Adam. I swear, not even God can take you away from me. I wouldn’t let that happen. We’re safe.” He looks into Adam’s eyes. “I love you.” He seals the confession with a kiss. “What’s going on?”

“I love you too,” Adam says, “I’m just really happy and in love, Michael. That’s what’s going on.”

**Author's Note:**

> adam be like *casually makes an archangel fall in love with him*
> 
> michael be like *falls in love with his vessel noises*
> 
> [here's my tumblr if anyone cares](http://pattyuris.tumblr.com)


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